by Paula Quinn
Because you like me. I can see it in your eyes. You have very expressive eyes, Sam.
Get out of my head, Marrkiya!
Call me Marcus while I am stuck in this body.
Whatever.
He was quiet, and Sam relaxed in her saddle. A few moments later though, she heard his voice again, a bit softer this time, but no less demanding.
Don’t be gone long, Sam.
Don’t be in the keep when I return, Marcus. You can sleep in the servant’s quarters.
She didn’t hear from him for the rest of the day, which, she decided while Eric talked about himself non-stop, was a miserable way to spend her afternoon.
After lunch and a little shopping in town, she practically raced Eric back to the castle, and that was not an easy feat to accomplish since her horse had no intentions of becoming a gelding and fought her every step of the way home. She refused Eric’s request to come inside for a cup of wine and just about tossed him into the empty moat when he tried to kiss her. Inside the castle, she shut the massive door, bolted it, and leaned against the cool wood to breathe a sigh of relief.
God’s teeth, Sam. Marcus exited the great hall wearing nothing but a pair of snug boxer briefs and a chicken leg shoved in his mouth. You only had to ask me to dispose of him for you. You needn’t have put yourself through such hell today.
“I told you to sleep in the servant’s quarters.”
“I’m not a servant,” he called back. He never slowed his pace toward the stairs, not even to stop and smile at her.
Part of her screamed to wake up from her insanity. The man was a total stranger, a possible escapee from…somewhere. Unbidden, another sigh escaped her while she stared at his broad sculpted back and then at his firm buttocks when he began climbing. Damn him, but he had a nice ass and firm, muscular thighs. He couldn’t be a dragon or anything else when every part of him declared with trumpets that he was a virile, powerful man.
Marcus.
He turned halfway up the stairs and looked down at her. She hadn’t meant to call to him. She was thinking of his name, but when he turned to her, she finally allowed the truth of it to sink in. As crazy as it was, he could hear her. She shivered at the intimacy of sharing thoughts with someone else. “Thank you for fixing my wall.”
The chiseled contours of his face softened into a heart-rending smile. “You’re welcome, Sam.”
Chapter Nine
Sam stumbled down the stairs in her flannel pajamas, almost tripping over her bunny slippers. She rubbed her sleepy eyes and inhaled the wonderful smell of bacon that wafted through the castle. She smiled and lifted her nose to follow the scent. Dear Ellie never missed a Sunday morning to cook her breakfast. She was probably making waffles too…
Sam skidded to a halt remembering Marcus. Her eyes opened wide for the first time that morning. He was probably beaten over the head with a frying pan by now, as unconscious as the first time she saw him. She raced down the rest of the stairs, narrowly missing a fall over a floppy rabbit ear and burst into the kitchen just in time to catch the sound of Marcus’ laugher.
The sight of him standing beside her friend, his head tossed back in mirth and spilling black hair over his shoulders, both frightened and enthralled her. Would he hurt Ellie? How could a possibly dangerous man look so absolutely magnificent? He wore black jeans and a black T-shirt that fit perfectly over all that finely-honed muscle he’d tortured her with yesterday.
Sam wasn’t sure if it was the sight of him or the sound of him that drew her hands to her chest. His laughter was deep, like his voice, but while one was lilting and musical, the other erupted like thunder, hearty and robust. When he saw her, his wide grin slanted into a darkly sensual smile. His eyes ravaged her and made her quiver somewhere deep within her belly. When he gazed at her slippers, his smile deepened.
“Oh, good morning, dear.” Ellie turned from her frying pan, flashed Sam a grin, then mouthed the word “wow.”
Wow? That’s all the normally feisty terrier had to say? This was the same woman who refused to make Eric a cup of tea until after Sam had gone out with him four times. But how could Ellie, or any other woman for that matter, not be seduced by those vivid, intense eyes, that wickedly rakish grin and chiseled jaw? Sam rolled her eyes when Marcus, apparently reading her thoughts, laughed again, more softly this time.
Get out of my head, Marcus. It isn’t fair.
“Sam,” Marcus sang her name, “Why didn’t you tell me Ellie would be here this morning? I frightened her half to death.” He left Ellie’s side and pulled a chair out from under the table. With a swift twist of his wrist, he spun the chair around and straddled it, facing her.
The image of poor Ellie unlocking the door and finding a fire-breathing dragon perched on the staircase popped into Sam’s head. She frowned at Marcus, wondering if he put the thought there.
“I didn’t know I had to tell you.” She padded toward the refrigerator cursing the four matted bunny ears that made her feel like she was two. “Do you want an itinerary of my entire life?”
Her sarcasm was not lost on him, but he only flashed her a devastating half-smile. “No, I enjoy surprises. It keeps the blood rushing,” he said the last word with enough gusto to make Sam’s toes curl in her slippers. She realized it was the way his lips puckered when he pronounced his R’s that made her go weak in the knees. She blushed thinking of kissing him and almost spilled her juice while she poured it.
“You only frightened me for a moment, Marcus,” Ellie mused while she flipped the bacon. “You were very sweet afterward. Sam, did you know that Marcus has never been to the cinema? I told him he looks like a young Robert Taylor, only a lot rougher ’round the edges, and he had no idea who I meant.” Ellie giggled. She giggled! “It was a good thing I was here, eh, dear?”
Sam wasn’t sure to whom her friend was speaking, so she simply nodded…numbly.
“He was bent on waking you up two hours ago.”
“I was lonely for you.” Marcus was sizing her up in her pajamas when she turned to him.
“Liar,” Sam said arching a brow at him.
Blush again. I like it.
Unable to control herself, Sam blushed as she crossed to the table. You shouldn’t be here in my head…she sat across from him with her juice and stomped a bunny into the floor…or in my house. There are plenty of inns you could stay at. Who said you could…
“It’s so kind of Marcus to fix the wall, isn’t it, Sam?”
Marcus smiled at Ellie for the reminder of his usefulness, then back at Sam, and waited smugly for her to continue.
“Ellie,” Sam said as her friend leaned over her with a plate of eggs, biscuits, and bacon and then handed it to Marcus first. “This is the guy who fell through the stable roof!”
“Yes, I know.” Ellie’s pale blue eyes softened on Sam through her spectacles.
“And it doesn’t strike you as odd to see him back here?”
“No, dear. Should it?” Ellie asked merrily, heading back to the stove for Sam’s dish.
Sam’s laugh bordered on hysteria. She was sure of it.
Marcus wolfed down another biscuit, seemingly oblivious to everything around him but his plate.
“He could be an axe murderer!”
Setting Sam’s breakfast before her, Ellie laughed and took her own seat. “Oh, what drivel. If he was an axe murderer, you would be dead by now.”
Sam wanted to yank off her slipper and smack it across Marcus’ head when he laughed, not so oblivious after all.
“Besides, you’re from New York. You wouldn’t let someone into your home that you didn’t trust. I like Marcus,” Ellie said, blushing slightly when he looked up and winked at her. “I had to cover him up though. I had a shirt at the shop, but I promised to take him shopping next week.”
Sam sipped her juice and shook her head. It was hopeless. She’d stepped into the rabbit hole and poor Ellie had gone in right after her.
“So,” Ellie said nonchalantly while she dra
nk her tea. “Marcus tells me he used to be a Drag…Drakkon.” She threw him a soft smile, correcting the proper name for what he claimed to be.
Sam choked on her bacon. Ellie leaned forward to pat her back.
“You mean you believe him?” Sam gaped at her. So much for Ellie trying to protect her from Mr. Wrong.
“Well, of course, I didn’t at first, but he didn’t get those wings from flight school, my dear,” Ellie gave her a pointed look over her specs.
Sam’s eyes opened as wide as her mouth as she turned to Marcus. “You showed her your wings?”
“Aye.”
“Nearly sucked the life right out of me when I saw them,” Ellie chuckled, patting Sam’s cheek. “But there was no other way the poor man could prove that he wasn’t a psychopath.”
Sam still wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t. “Marcus, you can’t go around whipping those things out to everyone you meet!”
“Why not?”
“Because they’ll lock you up!”
“And then you would miss me.” The amusement dancing across his eyes proved that he was thoroughly enjoying her squeaky little outburst of concern.
“No, I’d probably celebrate!”
He grinned at her, then bit into a slice of bacon and closed his eyes as something akin to ecstasy rushed over him. “If I had known how good cooked meat tastes, I would have breathed my fire on all those pigs before I ate them.”
“Oh!” Sam groaned. She pushed out of her chair, rubbed her aching head and practically ran out of the kitchen.
So much for a quiet, neat little life.
Chapter Ten
“Does she have an affinity for pigs, then?” Marcus asked Ellie with the most innocent of expressions when Sam was gone.
The old woman sighed and set her cup on the table. “I think this might be a bit much for her to swallow.” When he frowned in confusion, she went on. “I’ve seen many things in my life that can’t be explained, including the evil in a person’s heart. It’s easier for me to accept things. Even something as wildly strange as this. Sam has lived a very sheltered life with no firm foundation. When she bought this castle, I think she was hoping for a knight, not a dragon.”
“Knights, ha!” Marcus’ scowl was fierce. “They were nothing more than snacks, and foul ones at that. They were no match against me.” He folded his arms across his chest and tilted his chin. “I am Drakkon. Why would Sam prefer a mere knight when she could have the strength of a Drakkon at her side?”
“Oh, you are delightful.” Ellie leaned across the table and patted his hand.
Ellie thinks I am delightful. He sent the thought to Sam upstairs.
Be quiet.
“More bacon, dear?”
Marcus thrust his plate into Ellie’s waiting hands and resisted the urge to lick his chops.
Why did you run off, Sam?
I have work to do.
What kind of work?
Writing. And you’re distracting me.
Marcus smiled at his plate piled with crispy, sizzling decadence. What are you writing?
A book.
What kind of book? He closed his teeth around a slice of pork and groaned deep in his throat.
Marcus, please stop eating bacon in my head. When do you think you’ll be done with the wall?
Soon. What are you writing about?
A castle. Really, I can’t concentrate with you asking a million questions and moaning like you’re making…
Sam? He asked a few moments later when his head remained silent. Like I am making what?
She didn’t answer and he glanced at her friend sitting across from him. “She’s a stubborn wench.”
“Who, dear?”
“Sam.” He angled his head and brooded at the ceiling where Sam worked somewhere above, ignoring him. “She refuses to answer me.”
Ellie dropped her specs and eyed him narrowly. “You really can communicate with her telepathically?”
With anyone, he told Ellie silently, swinging his gaze to hers.
“Oh, my!” The old woman pushed back in her chair, startled to hear his voice in her head. “What else can you do?”
“Not much anymore,” Marcus chomped into his bacon wishing it were Patrick White’s throat. “But I plan on remedying that.”
“Really? How?” Ellie dipped her head to get a better look at him over her specs.
By force, if I have to, Marcus thought to himself, keeping it from Ellie. “Padgora wants something priceless before he will change me back. A treasure like no other. I don’t know what it is yet, but I plan on finding out.”
“Then the legends are true,” Ellie said. “Dragons really do hoard their treasures.”
“Drakkon,” he corrected mildly. “And aye, we are possessive of what belongs to us.”
“Don’t you already have a treasure then? Give it to him and get your life back.”
“I tried to do just that,” he told her miserably. “He wants more, greedy son of a whore that he is. He wants something from me that I don’t have.”
“Where will you find this treasure?”
He clenched his jaw with frustration. He had no idea how he was to find it. Then he remembered that Tomias had promised to tell him of it after he transformed. What could it be? Would it be enough to satisfy Padgora? Marcus would have to speak with Tomias about it, but it would have to wait until the desire to kill his old friend for betraying him wasn’t so strong.
“I do not know.” His sigh sounded more like a snarl. “I have lost much of my Drakkon abilities.”
“Well, in the meantime, you’ll just have to learn how to do new things. More tea?”
He shook his head, then glanced up at her when she rose from the table. “I can paint. Mayhap I will paint a castle for Sam.”
“That would be lovely, dear,” Ellie tossed over shoulder and poured herself more tea.
“She writes about castles, no?”
“Yes, she’s a romance novelist.”
Marcus stopped chewing briefly and looked up. “Romance?”
“That’s right. Historicals.” Leaning against the countertop, Ellie held her cup in both hands and closed her eyes. Marcus watched as pure delight washed across her pudgy features. “Ask her about A Quest for Honor and Sir Tristan.”
His next slice of bacon paused at his lips and his eyes darkened a shade beneath his drawn brow. Sam, are there knights in your castles?
Yes. Ssh!
Dropping his bacon, Marcus rose to his feet. Was the woman daft? She had a Drakkon sitting in her kitchen and she was lost in a world of knights? Hell, anything but knights! They were nothing but over-exaggerated icons of war. Only one had ever stood up to him.
“I must speak to Sam.” He pushed his chair away and without another word to Ellie, left the kitchen.
I want you to stop writing about knights this instant, he demanded as he pounded up the stairs.
Sure. Anything you say.
They are not worthy of your quill!
I’m typing, Marcus. No one’s used a quill in a hundred years. You’re getting on my nerves. Seriously.
Marcus followed her voice to a door on the second landing and plunged inside. “Sir Edward Bartholomew led a score of his own men into my lair and stood aside while I scorched the flesh from their bones. Knowing I had exhausted my fire, he cleverly avoided my claws and proceeded to jab me with his sword until day became night. That is getting on one’s nerves.”
Sam turned from her computer and stared at him. For a moment, Marcus thought she was going to laugh at his comparison. But then her eyes widened, making her look even sweeter, even more innocent.
“What did you do?”
His shoulders squared and he raised his chin. “I ate him. What do you think I did?”
“And you’re proud of that?”
The way her expression turned to one of disgust told him she did not approve. “What choice did I have?”
She thought about it for a moment. He watched her, tran
sfixed by the way uncertainty quirked her brow and pursed her mouth. She had a delectable mouth, he decided, confounded to find himself enchanted by such a fragile thing as human lips. He wondered how it would feel to have Sam’s plump mouth around him. In the same room as her, her scent washed over him like a deluge, exhilarating, enticing him beyond his control. He took a step forward and Sam bolted from her chair.
“Back off,” she warned, holding her palm up to stop him. “I don’t like that look in your eyes.”
“What look?” he paused and asked innocently.
“Like I’m your next meal.”
The smile curling one corner of his mouth was harmless enough, but the smoldering hunger in his eyes blazed with nakedly male intent. “I only want to kiss you, Sam.” His voice dipped to a low, gravelly whisper as he picked up his steps again and moved toward her. “Don’t be afraid,” he coaxed gently when she backed around her desk. “I’m told I kiss rather nicely.”
He was surprised when he sensed her fear turn to irritation. The stars have mercy on him, but her mouth was even more alluring when she pouted with displeasure.
“Well, I’m glad you haven’t wasted any time adjusting to your new body.”
“I’m a swift learner.” He was close enough to touch her. And he did. Slipping one hand behind her nape, he caressed her warm flesh while gazing into her eyes.
She didn’t pull away. He would have been surprised if she did, for no maiden could resist the uncontainable power of a Drakkon. With the slightest bit of effort, he drew her mouth to his, watching as her lips parted to receive him, her thick sable lashes lowering over her dazed eyes.
His mouth covered hers gently at first, molding the sweet softness of her lips to his. But tasting the innocence that so beguiled him snapped his last ounce of control. He yanked her closer, using nothing but his hand, and opened his hungry mouth to take her more fully.
